How to Say Goodbye: by Fred Weasley
by Walking DisasterTM
Summary: The Weasley family like to hold tight to each other. They just didn't know how to function without each other. Luckily for them, Fred was here how to teach them to let go and function once again step by step.


George woke up in his room at the Burrow, confused and somewhat alarmed. He knew for a fact that he had fallen asleep in the flat he shared with Fred in Diagon Alley above their shop. _Well, the one we used to share_, George smiled bitterly, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes." An achingly familiar voice laughed in good humor. "That missing ear certainly isn't helping anything either."

George's heart leapt and dropped to his stomach, vicious and broken like a feral cat.

"Fred..." He choked, tears blurring his eyes.

"Hey Forge," Fred greeted with a rueful grin.

George struggled to make sense of the situation. None of this made sense. Fred was dead, had been for a while now. So, how was he here? "How is this-? How are you-? Why is this happening?"

"Well, let's just say I'm gonna be visiting everyone for the next few days. Mum is _not_ gonna be a fun one."

Merlin, none of this made any sense. That's when it hit him.

"I'm still dreaming, aren't I?" George asked, not looking away for a second, afraid that this would end if he did.

"Well, yeah, Forge, but I'm really here. Kind of like the Hogwarts ghosts, except it's only in a dream and probably a one time thing."

"So not really like the Hogwarts ghosts at all?" George responded, laughing at Fred's responding pause and shrug. As a moment of silence ensued, George took the time to observe his twin.

Fred's hair was in disarray and there was blood splattered on his neck and chest, a gaping wound from his side that oozed with puss and blood, stuck in a perpetual state of what had happened before he had died. Flesh was ripped and distorted and burnt from the blast and, if Fred tilted his head and the lighting was just right, he might have been able to see bone. But, if not for the obvious wounds and the blood, Fred would have looked alive and just in the midst of a terribly gone wrong prank by the way his eyes crinkled in laughter, the flush of his cheeks and the hidden plain amusement on his face.

Fred noticed his stare and quickly spoke, "It doesn't hurt. It's just kind of annoying since changing clothes apparently isn't an option here and I've had to share the story of my death a lot but-"

George flinched at the words 'my death' causing Fred to cut off.

"Sorry Forge, should've remembered how hard this would be for you."

George shrugged helplessly, a small, pained smile, one that looked more like a grimace than a smile.

"So…" Fred asked after a small pause. "How's the rest of the family?"

"Mum's still…Mum." Geroge shrugged. "Still overprotective as ever, but now even more so considering… well, you know." He made a gesture towards his twin who hummed in understanding,

"What about Dad?" Fred asked.

"He's… not well." Geroge started hesitantly. "He hasn't even looked at his muggle contraptions since you… since you died. I haven't spoken to him about it, but I think they remind him of you, you know? How everything used to be."

"The only thing that really got a reaction from him," Geroge continued, "Was when Percy brought up the flying car fiasco from fourth year. Percy mentioned it at dinner once and Dad froze up before suddenly leaving the table."

They were silent for a moment. Fred frowned up at the ceiling, contemplating, before looking back at his brother. "It's not Percy's fault that this happened." He stated simply, "Dad will come to realize that in time. For now, encourage him and try to be there for him," He smiled, "It's all you can do now."

Geroge nodded slowly, understanding but somewhat hesitant. Fred pushed the conversation along, trying to move onto a lighter topic. "What about Charlie and Bill?"

"Charlie and Bill went back to work. I'm pretty sure they're using it to distract themselves. Mum didn't like the news that they were leaving again, threw a fit and everything."

"Sounds about right." He laughed, features lighting up. "What about the Golden Trio?"

George quickly adopted a perfectly matching smirk before continuing smugly, "Well that's probably the only positive development from this whole fiasco. It seems that the Weasley family has gained two new members in the form of one Harry Potter and one Hermione Granger."

"Let me guess, Ron and Ginny aren't single anymore?" Fred's question was answered by the grin that appeared on his twin's face, "Well that certainly _is_ interesting."

They talked for a while about everything and nothing. Fred listened intently as George went on about the latest products he had thought of and of all the pranks he had yet to pull in Fred's honor. It was therapeutic to Geroge, talking to his brother again, but, like all things, everything had to end.

It was like he was slowly going underwater. The world was becoming distorted and slightly off. It tilted on its axis and righted itself once again. George looked on in panic as the image of his brother started to blur out of existence.

"What's happening?!" George asked in a panic.

"You're waking up," Fred replied calmly. "I have to go now," he continued with a sad smile. "I don't know if I'll be able to do this again, but know that I enjoyed the time we had together and that, even if you can't see me, I'll be hanging around."

The world shifted again and a pit grew in George's stomach, vast and endless.

"See you later, Forge." Fred said, holding out his arms towards George.

As he hugged his brother for the final time and as began to wake up, George heard a faint whisper, "_Mischief Managed_."

George woke up with a gasp, tears burning his eyes as his chest heaved, short of breath. Sweat coated his body as he sat up, eyes darting around, looking for his brother only to find him gone. In a panic, he shot up and out of bed, the sheets gripping his legs almost making him fall.

"_Fred-_" he yelled out desperately, waiting for a familiar voice to call back, waiting for a sign that his brother really had come back to see him one last time.

Only silence met his cry.

In a subconscious movement built by practice and grief, George reached towards his nightstand where his wand rested and found, as his fingers brushed against the wood, that there was a second wand right next to his.

* * *

Special shoutout to WrathfulFox on for editing and stuff. This was a good distraction from our college classes even though it's literally 3 weeks in to the semester.

We cried both from laughter and sadness while writing this.

RIP Fred you are missed


End file.
